Love in the Time of Corona
Yesterday, I went on a brunch date with this girl from Belarus who loved drinking. We ordered Pillars of Hercules; a platter for two that came with hummus, feta cheese, olives, chopped tomato and onions, Greek yogurt, and whole wheat pita. I ate, but she drank. By the time I finished half of the platter and one mimosa, she downed three pints of Guinness, she loved drinking, and talking, and saying “la la la la” after every other sentence. First, she told me how much she hated Chinese people, “because you know they always do this la la la la?” I shook my head. Then she said, she hated Indian people. I told her my dad was born in India. “But you’re Canadian, that’s different. Indian people always do this la la la la.” Very articulate, I thought. I wanted to order another mimosa to bear the torture, but then she said, she hated black people. So, I asked the server for the bill. “But we just got here,” she raised her arms. “I know,” I smiled, “but I gotta do stuff,” I got up and paid the bill. “What stuff?” She chugged the Guinness. “You know, like la la la la,” I said, and walked away.
Now you may think I’m no different, I did the same thing as her; I was being judgmental, and that I should have been a bit more patient. But c’mon, these were red flags! I was not going to waste my Saturday morning listening to the la la la lamedy. So, I took a cab and went downtown, to check out a new boutique bookstore that happened to carry English books - a rarity in Shenzhen.
The entrance opened to a small patio, surrounded by an abundance of cactus, the scent of e-cigarettes, and burst of laughter coming from kids that skimmed through a book of half-clad fashion models. I followed the music that played inside the store, it sounded like a sweet memory from long time ago, but faded away the more I listened to it - like a melancholy. I asked the receptionist if he knew who the artist was, but he shook his head.
“Cigarettes After Sex,” someone said.
I turned around to look at her. She wore an airy white blouse with black patterned leaves, huge diamond shaped golden hoop earrings, and pale pink lipstick. “Do you always dress up when you come to a bookstore,” I asked. “I’m on a date,” she smiled, “but she’s late,” she rolled her eyes. “First date?” I asked. She shook her head, “this is the third time she’s late,” she laughed. I wondered if it was the song or the fact that I had no chance with her that made me feel lonely for a moment. “Enjoy your date,” I said, and walked to the back of the store to look for English books.
The selection was small, as I expected. Of course they carried classics like The Great Gatsby, Pride and Prejudice, and Great Expectations. But I wanted new stuff, which they didn’t have. So I moved onto my next love; photo books. I picked three books, and went back to the patio to find a spot. Surprisingly the kids were gone, but the alien smell of e-cigarettes still lingered around. The girl with the golden hoop earrings laughed, she was having a better time than I had with my date that morning. I placed the books on one of the corner tables, and went to get a coffee. They gave me a scratch card with my Americano, but there were no coins to scratch the card with, it made me think of how times have changed. In the last four years, I haven’t used cash in China, everything is done on the phone, including paying for cabs. The future is now. I gave the card back to the server and raised my shoulders, he laughed, and scratched it for me, “you win!” his eyes widened, “liǎng gèrén de shuǐguǒ pīnpán” (a fruit platter for two). I was one, but that time I didn’t feel lonely, maybe because Cigarettes After Sex weren’t playing, or maybe seeing the golden hoop earrings girl happy somehow made me happy. So I sent the platter to the girls.
I was always a loner, since I was young. Either that or not having any siblings until I turned seven made me one. Regardless, I learned how to enjoy being alone, I mastered it. There are times when I fall for the BS our society indirectly mandates; get married to your soul mate = true happiness. Then I wake myself up, and realize I’m already happy. I might be alone, but I’m not lonely.
When I got to the third book, I realized I lost track of time, the sun was at its highest point. The girls came to thank me for the fruit platter, and the girl with the golden hoop earrings noticed my book. “Isn’t that Vivian Maier!” She picked it up, “hope you didn’t buy it,” she said. I shook my head, and told her that I used to collect large format books when I was in Toronto, but I gave them all away when I moved to Asia. When you’re an expat, or have a lifestyle of travel and exploration, you don’t have the luxury to own things. Well, you can if you really want to, but it gets expensive to figure out storage. So now, I savor photo books whenever I go to a bookstore. “Well, you’re in luck. My dad has that book and many more that he needs to give away, he has a collection problem” she said. “And not just books,” her friend giggled. “Come with us, let’s have lunch together, and then you can take the books you like.”
When we got to her house, her dad took me to his basement library right away. He said, I could have any book I wanted. When I asked him why he was getting rid of all his books, he said, his new girlfriend doesn’t like books, and she wants to transform the basement into a spa for her friends. Interesting, I thought. “How did you guys meet?” I asked. “Well, thanks to COVID-19, my wife and I got divorced, and then I met Swallow online.” Interesting name, I thought. “She’s upstairs, doing her nails, let’s go say hi to her,” he jumped off his reading chair and ran towards the stairs. Must be the honeymoon phase, I thought.
When he opened the bedroom door, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Swallow was a sex doll!
I wanted to ask if she was going to join us for lunch, but I kept quiet. I still wanted those books!
On my way back home, I thought, Swallow and the girl from Belarus would make great friends. They could both enjoy the spa in the basement, while listening to the la la la lamedy.
